


rinse and repeat

by corpuscle



Category: VIXX
Genre: Angst, and very angst, but i was going through some stuff, but this is very vent-y, i also am depressed, i dont remember when i wrote it, i found this in my drafts while i was going through old stuff, if u dont like angst or are triggered by general doom and gloom easily than probably do not read, im still going through some stuff, implied depression, like hardcore sanghyuk is depressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 02:01:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12877800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corpuscle/pseuds/corpuscle
Summary: sanghyuk is tired.





	rinse and repeat

Sanghyuk is bundled tightly in the comforter on his bed, so completely that all the air he’s breathing is warm and recycled and gross. Part of him wants to just crawl out and get a deep lungful of the good, cold, clean stuff, wants to just ignore everything he’s feeling and get over himself and stop being miserable. But he can’t. He knows he can’t. He’s tried, and, god, he’s so tired of pretending. He doesn’t want to pretend anymore he wants to come clean wants to shout everything he’s feeling at the top of his lungs. Wants to lay himself out open and bare, blood and guts and all. Just wants everything  _ out _ so he doesn’t have to deal with it anymore.

Of course, logically, he knows that has never been an option. Will never be an option. Not unless he wants to fuck everything up for everyone; for himself and his career and the five others he’s come to regard as brothers. Well, four. Four brothers and one…. one person he doesn’t want to think about. It’s too frustrating and painful, makes his stomach twist up into tight little knots. Like a frayed thread on the bottom of an old tee shirt that’s been pulled and twisted until half of the hem has come undone and the string is so tangled and caught up in itself that you have to throw the whole thing away. 

That’s how Sanghyuk feels right now. Twisted and tangled and broken and useless and frustrated.

 

There’s a soft knock on the door to his and Wonshik’s shared bedroom, and then it squeaks open and soft footsteps near Sanghyuk’s cocooned body. The mattress dips as whoever it is sits down on the edge of the bed with Sanghyuk. He doesn’t move. There’s only one person he wants to see right now, and he won’t let himself. If he does he knows he’ll say something irreversibly stupid and mess everything up even further. 

He can feel faintly a hand rubbing softly up and down the blanket burrito he has himself trapped in before Hakyeon’s comforting voice, the one he uses when he wants to make sure the younger boys feel safe, like a tutting mother hen tells him that dinner is ready and asks if he wants to come eat with everyone. 

Sanghyuk doesn’t reply. 

 

Hakyeon stays for maybe five minutes more with not even a sign of life from the miserable maknae beneath him, then says they’ll save a plate for Sanghyuk in the fridge and leaves the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

 

At some point Sanghyuk falls asleep. He doesn’t hear when Wonshik comes in and retires, the only way he knows now is the elder’s soft snoring from the other side of the room. It’s dark, now. He doesn’t know what time it is. Doesn’t particularly care to, either. Just knows he’s still unbelievably tired even after however long he’s been asleep. 

He feels...numb. Uncomfortably so. 

 

His face is dry and tight from all the crying he’s done, his eyes puffy and sore and his nose still stuffed up with snot. He hates this, hates this feeling, and hates how familiar it is. He hates how many times he’s gone through this, hates how many times he’s yet to go through it. 

 

He knows exactly what will happen, now, too. He’s going to stay awake with his thoughts and his twisted gut and his self-doubt, self-hatred, until Wonshik’s phone alarm goes off at 4. Then he’s going to get up and take a cold shower. He’ll apologize to Hakyeon for being rude and put on the fake smile he’s spent so long perfecting and he’ll go about his day as if nothing’s wrong. He’ll laugh at Jaehwan’s jokes. He’ll do his best at choreo practice and vocals, and when he inevitably messes up he’ll carefully store the berating comments in his own mind in small, neat packages to be unwrapped that night. 

He’ll wrap himself up in his blankets, cry himself to sleep, rinse, and repeat. 

And life will go on. 


End file.
